A Handful of Dust
by Jen Rock
Summary: Lock-Up is on a rampage and the only one who can stop him is...Scarecrow?
1. Default Chapter

A Handful of Dust

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Notes: This has no connection to my previous B:TAS fanfic and contains spoilers for the animated episode "Lock-Up." The title is from the poem "The Waste Land, by T.S. Eliot. Specifically the line is, "I will show you fear in a handful of dust."

Robin sat crouched on the roof of Gotham National Bank. It had been a slow night, just two muggings and a break-in at a pawn shop. He'd been able to handle everything on his own. That was a good thing because he WAS on his own. Batman was overseas at the moment dealing with Ra's al Ghul's latest scheme and Robin was covering all of Gotham by himself.

Luckily, the criminals didn't know that or there would probably be more widespread problems. He just didn't inspire the same dread that Batman did even after all these years at the Dark Knight's side. Still, for all he was capable of dealing with, he was glad it was so quiet. All of the so-called Rogues were locked away in Arkham except for Scarecrow who had been paroled three days ago.

It seemed that Jonathan Crane had managed to convince some gullible new staff member that he was cured and he'd been given his walking papers. Robin was keeping an eye out for any Scarecrow-ish activities but so far there'd been none. The small receiver clipped to Robin's costume suddenly came to life.

"Attention all units! Break-out in progress at Arkham Asylum..." It had been too good to last. Sighing, Robin used a line to swing down to the ground and was soon speeding off on his cycle towards Arkham.

Professor Jonathan Crane sat in his favorite comfortable chair absorbed in the heavy tome in his lap. The walls of the room around him were covered in shelves filled with books. If he drew a deep breath, he could smell the satisfying odor of old leather that bound many of the rare and valuable volumes that graced his collection. Not that their monetary value mattered to him as he'd rather starve than sell a single, precious book.

This house was his sanctuary. No one knew he owned it. He'd never used it as a base for any of his crimes and never wore his costume within these walls. Instead, he utilized it as a storage place for as many of his books as he could fit. Every room in it except the bathroom and kitchen was lined with shelves which were filled with his books. He'd installed state-of-the art security systems as well as a dry-foam sprinkler system in case of fire. The effect was rather like being underground, especially since he'd blocked most of the windows off to prevent sunlight from fading any of the books.

He was well into his first-edition volume of "Tales of Terror and Mystery," by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle when a sudden beeping drew his attention. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a computer which was idle at the moment. The beeping was the product of a program that Jervis Tetch had given him. It scanned for articles of interest on-line and alerted him when certain key words were found.

He closed the book without a marker. Crane didn't need one to remember where he had left off and he thought that nothing should mar the fit of the pages. As soon as he turned on the monitor, he saw what key-word had been found. The headline read, "Break-Out at Arkham Thwarted." Crane tucked the book under his arm and began to read the article with amusement. Doubtless one of his fellow supervillians was feeling rather foolish right now. The article read in part:

"An attempted break-out at Arkham Asylum by inmate Harvey Dent was stopped with the aid of Robin, the sidekick of the mysterious vigilante Batman. The attempt involved the use of a small amount of explosives which were used to blow a hole in the wall of both wings. The second explosion is believed to be a diversion as well as fitting Dent's theme of double crimes. Dent, the former Gotham D.A. known as Two-Face, fled the building but was captured outside and returned to Arkham custody.

However, during Dent's brief escape, another inmate, former Arkham security chief Lyle Bolton, aka Lock-Up also fled and is still at large. Authorities are investigating whether any of the guards were involved but say..."

Crane almost threw the book at the screen but thought better of it and instead slammed his hand down on the computer desk. He was trembling with rage at the sight of Lyle Bolton's name. That bully was at large, allowed to run free after all he had done. The memory of sitting in the hearing, his ribs still bruised from Bolton's fists, and having to claim there was nothing wrong still burned in his head. Not to mention the humiliation of admitting to Batman that he was scared and running from his fear as they'd brought him back to Arkham. It was intolerable. Bolton had to be made to pay and he was already thinking of ways to make it happen.

He placed the book gently back in its designated spot, clasped his shaking hands behind his back and began to pace. It would be much more difficult to get at Bolton in Arkham so Crane would need to go after him while he was on the loose. That meant beating Batman and Robin to Lock-Up which meant figuring out what the bullying maniac was planning to do and where he might be. He had to get started now. With plans hatching in his head, he headed determinedly out to the garage. He was heading for one of his lairs which contained an extensive chemical lab. Soon Bolton would learn the true meaning of fear at the hands of the Scarecrow....


	2. Part 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It was done. Finally, after a whole sleepless night of work, Scarecrow had the means to take his revenge on Lock-Up. He held the vial aloft and admired it's contents before tucking it securely into a padded pocket on his costume. He still needed to find Boltonbut that shouldn't be too hard. The blowhard wasn't going to slink out of the city. Doubtless he would try again to punish city officials for their incompetence and then Scarecrow would have him. It was only a matter of time.

While he'd been working, his attention had been solely on what he'd been doing but now that he was done a different priority asserted itself with a growl. He hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday and he could use something to keep him alert so he needed to change into a disguise. He had worn his costume to work on the weapon but he couldn't go out in public dressed like that. While his face certainly wasn't as recognizable as Joker or Two-Face, he couldn't take the chance that someone might remember him. So he pulled on slacks and a hooded sweatshirt over his costume and tucked the mask and gloves under his shirt. After making sure he could reach the vial at a moment's notice, he went out to a different sort of chemical lab.

The line at Beckster's was rather long and he fidgeted as it moved ever so slowly towards the counter. Several people had held up the line arguing with the clerk over the proper way to prepare their lattes. Crane was sorely tempted to simply dose the whole line ahead of him with fear gas and then stroll up to the counter and place his order but he managed to quell his impatience. After an eternity, he got his standard black coffee(no sugar, no milk, no # foam) and a bagel and went to a back table by himself.

The place was filled with young, trendy college-age people like the sort that had been in his classes at Gotham University. He knew their type. They were full of ambition and arrogance as they planned their future with their six-figure jobs, house in the suburbs, 2.3 kids, and SUV's in the driveway. If asked, they would likely say that they had no fear of the future because they already planned it all out but he knew better.

Deep down inside, they all carried the same fears-of failure, of being unloved, and of getting old and decrepit. All their laughter and feigned confidence was just a mask for their raging insecurities. If only he had the time to properly educate them about the power of fear...but he had to stay focused. Bolton was his main objective and these posers would have to wait. After he'd finished with the bully, he'd make it a point to come back here and fill the place with lovely green gas. Then their true education would begin.

After he'd finished eating, he walked outside and headed for the used bookstore down the street. He'd spent many an hour browsing the shelves at Raven New and Used Books, and usually ended up with a nice stack of books. The portly, gray-haired clerk behind the counter knew him by sight and sometimes recommended books for him. The man nodded at him as Crane entered the store but didn't approach which meant there was nothing new in that he thought Crane would want.

Still, Scarecrow felt the need to stay in this shrine of knowledge as long as possible and lingered over the tidy shelves of precious book. He did find a decent copy of the collected works of "Richard Bachman" which had been widely banned for one story about a student taking over his school at gunpoint. Crane hated when anyone tried to ban any book and took great delight in acquiring them. He had even considered disguising himself as a janitor and sneaking into various local schools to insert copies of banned books onto the shelves of the library. He liked to think about the students finding them and hopefully learning something from them, especially the ones that dealt with death and fear. Children had to learn the futility of their lives somewhere and that's where books came in handy.

He paid for his book and walked outside back towards his lab. Along the way was an appliance store with the idiot boxes in the window turned to some dull local news show. He rarely watched television and therefore didn't even glance at the flickering screens as he passed until a familiar voice caught his attention. One the screen was Lock-Out shown in a dark room with a tied-up Summer Gleason behind him.

"...if these demands aren't satisfied, the freedom of the press is going to come to a sudden end. You have twenty-four hours to give me what I want." The view shifted to some overly tan news anchor trying to look concerned.

"The mayor released a brief written statement that the city will try to come up with the 20,000,000 that Bolton has demanded but they need more time. Police Commissioner Gordon has assured us that his department is doing everything it can to get our colleague Summer back safe and sound. Our cameraman, Scott Andrews, shot this footage of the kidnapping." There was about two minutes of footage with Gleason standing outside City Hall talking about some award banquet when Bolton came at her from behind and grabbed her. He put a knife to her throat and warned everyone back but then was knocked to the ground by the Boy Wonder.

Crane watched the quick fight between Robin and Lock-Up which concluded with the much larger Bolton throwing Batman's brat into a tree, stunning him and then grabbing Gleason again, who had been too scared and fascinated to run away. Crane enjoyed the obvious fear on her pretty face but he was more interested in Robin's presence. That was twice now that Robin had shown up without Batman. Could the Dark Knight be unavailable right now and if so, why? The flu? Vacation time? Serious injury hopefully leading to a slow, lingering death? If Batman was out of the way right now, Crane's task would be a lot easier. He could deal with the sidekick. It was only Batman that could give him any trouble.

Bolton was working faster than he'd thought which meant he'd have to work faster. There were several underground connections he could mine for information. Also, he needed to know what all of Bolton's demands were beside the money in order to give himself some idea of Lock-Up's plan. The news program had gone on to some other story about financial problems in the city's budget but Scarecrow was already on the move. He couldn't afford to waste any time. Patting his secret weapon in it's secured pocket, he headed back to the lab to drop off his book and then headed out to make his first contact.

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This is an actual used book store in one of the local towns. I always liked the name so I thought I'd stick it in the story.

Richard Bachman is, of course, a pseudonym used by Stephen King. He published a collection of four novellas under that name that were published as "The Bachman Books." One of the stories in it was "Rage" which was about a kid taking over his high school class at gunpoint and shooting the teacher. King asked that the book be voluntarily pulled from library shelves after Columbine and many libraries did so.


	3. Part 3

A Handful of Dust, part 3.

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything except Jimmy.

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Scarecrow strode confidently into Sharkey's Bar in full costume. Conversations stopped as the bar patrons noticed him but costumed Rogues were a common enough sight here and after a moment, the various thugs, lowlifes, and floozies went back to their own business. Crane had donned his costume just outside the place. He had needed to elude notice on his way here but once at his destination, it was much better to be noticed.

Sharkey's was one of many dives in the seedier sections of Gotham where the Rogues often went to find their hapless helpers but Crane didn't need muscle right now. He needed information. He approached the bar to talk to the bartender who avoided meeting his gaze. Crane deliberately leaned closer just to watch the larger man shrink back from him.

"I'm looking for Jimmy Sneed. Have you seen him?" Crane fully expected a negative as he'd been to three bars looking for his former henchman but to his surprise, the man nodded and jerked a finger towards the back room.

Scarecrow walked down the hallway to the small back room where several men were standing around one of the two pool tables watching a short, stout man with a thick mustache, shoot. They were so intent on the game that many didn't notice Scarecrow but when they did they all went silent. Sneed looked up at the silence and went a little pale when he saw Scarecrow standing there with his arms folded. Still, the man took his shot hitting the last of the balls into the pocket and then accepting the wads of money handed to him by the other men before they made a hasty retreat. In a matter of minutes, only Scarecrow and Jimmy were still in the room.

"Nice to see you again, boss. I heard they let you out of Arkham. Got a job in mind?" Sneed was trying to sound casual but there was a certain queasy look in his eyes. A few months ago, Sneed had been one of Scarecrow's henchman in a scheme to rob several jewel stores using his fear gas. When Batman had shown up and fought the men, Sneed had been inadvertently fear-gassed after losing his gas mask.

He'd spent the next week in a hospital recovering from the effects of his previously latent achluophobia(a/n). The fear-gas had made him go blind, trapping him in unceasing darkness for days until the effects had worn off. But that wasn't any concern of Crane's. He was here because Sneed had a love of gossip and was a good source of what was going on in the criminal underworld. The man collected rumors the way Crane collected books.

"No, I'm taking care of personal business right now. I'm trying to find the whereabouts of Lock-Up as well as what his plans are. I want to hear whatever you know about the situation." Sneed looked both relieved and puzzled.

"I don't know much boss but why are you going after that Bolton guy? Isn't he one of your kind?" Sneed only meant that Lock-Up was a costumed criminal like Scarecrow but at Crane's sudden, snarling reaction he realized his mistake and backed away.

"That bastard is nothing like me! He's a bullying, mindless, monster who lives only to push around those smaller than him. I am a scientist! My experiments in fear cannot be compared to that cretin's blind hatred of authority." Crane's hands were balled into fists so tight that they hurt. With an effort, he calmed himself down and glared at Sneed who looked like he was trying to melt through the back wall. "All I want is information. Where is he? What is he planning? How soon will he be moving? Give me answers and I'll be on my way."

"I don't know where he is exactly but I hear he's been spotted over in the Riverview area by Harrison's store. He's got that reporter and he's holding her for ransom. He wants twenty million dollars and he wants the mayor, Commissioner Gordon, and the head guy at Arkham to resign. He gave a deadline of noon tomorrow but I don't know whether he'll do anything before that. That's all I know, I swear." Jimmy's face was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as Crane had come near enough to almost touch him.

"I believe you, James. You've been very helpful. Here's a little something for your trouble." Crane tossed a fifty-dollar bill on the table and went to leave. As Sneed laid a hand on it, Crane stopped without looking back. "And just remember Jimmy, if Bolton learns that I'm looking for him, you'll think of that week in the hospital as a pleasant vacation compared to what I'll do to you." Crane walked out then leaving a shaken Sneed to stare at the fifty with a look of fear.

Scarecrow changed back into civilian clothes and hailed a cab. The ride to Riverview didn't take long. It was not a slum but the small section of Gotham known as Riverview had seen better days. The area was full of shabby apartment buildings and small, dingy store fronts. One of these stores was Harrison's Hunting & Fishing which Crane was standing in front of when he emerged from the cab.

He paid the cabby and then went in. Harrison himself was behind the counter. He was a trim, average-sized man with a military bearing although he had never been in the military. With a nod of recognition, he motioned Crane to follow him into his office.

"Hello, Mr. Harrison. Good day to you, sir."

"Spit it out Crane. I haven't got all day. Are you looking for weapons or something else?" Crane disliked having to be polite but he knew the man wouldn't be intimidated simply by his presence and he needed Harrison to be cooperative rather than belligerent so he bit back his initial irritated reply.

"Something else. I'm trying to locate the whereabouts of Lyle Bolton. I was told he's been seen in this area?"

"Yeah, he came in here yesterday. I could tell you more but it's going to cost you." Crane had expected that this would happen. Harrison ran a legitimate business on the surface but under the table, he was willing to sell just about anything for the right price. That was another reason Scarecrow had to be polite. The man was part of the network of lower criminals who were considered a help by the Rogues and therefore were off-limits. Only Joker was crazy enough to take out one of the few people willing to accommodate the supervillians needs.

"How much do you want? Name your price."

"10,000." It was about what he'd expected and after a brief discussion, he went on Harrison's computer and wired the money from one of his hidden bank accounts to the crook's.

"All right. Bolton's holed up in the old police station two blocks from here. You know the one. He's got some hired thugs as guards, about ten of them or so." This was wonderful news. The former precinct had been part of a community policing effort that had eventually fallen through. The building was secure but Crane had been brought there once while it was still active and knew the general layout.

Bolton wouldn't know what hit him. As he left Harrison's store, he touched the hidden vial reflexively and then headed towards the old building. Soon, he would have his revenge...

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A/N: Achluophobiafear of the dark.


	4. Part 4

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing.

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Scarecrow stood in an alleyway studying the former Precinct #16 building which was half-a-block away. It was an unassuming two-story structure with only the barred windows to show what it had once been. The street lights on the block were randomly burned or shot out leaving large areas in shadow which made his approach easier. Darkness was his friend but dawn was only an hour away and he would have to hurry.

Clutching one of his scythes which he'd retrieved from a nearby hide-out, he flitted carefully across the deserted street and into another alleyway. Crane emerged in the space that ran behind two rows of old buildings next to a rusty dumpster. Four spaces down was the back of Lock-Up's hideout and to Scarecrow's surprise there were two men guarding the back entrance. They were pretending to just hang out, one smoking a cigarette and the other idly kicking at the trash but he knew muscle when he saw it.

This posed a problem but only a small one. The larger problem was caused by what was hidden behind the dumpster. Partly covered with boxes and unseen by the two men was a colorful motorcycle. Robin's motorcycle to be exact. The Boy Wonder was probably already in the building taking out Lock-Up. This was intolerable. He would not be cheated out of his vengeance. Crane glanced up and around to make sure that Robin wasn't in sight and made his move.

The two men both started and drew their guns as the small, silver ball came flying out of the darkness to land at their feet. They looked at it with confusion as it went off with a hiss, enveloping them in green gas. Scarecrow came forward to watch the show as the men breathed in the fear gas and began coughing. The smoker bolted in Crane's direction and ran past him screaming about the snakes which he imagined were pursuing him through the dark alley.

As the gas dissipated, it revealed the other man curled into the fetal position and rocking back and forth. His face was pale and sweating and he was staring off into space. Crane could think of any number of phobias that could cause that reaction but he didn't take the time to figure it out. Instead, he stepped past the man and opened the back door.

It led into a hallway that was dimly lit with another one leading to his right. If he remembered correctly, the right hand one led to the offices and bathrooms. Bolton wouldn't be there. He would want to be in the main room where he could see what was going on. Crane hugged the wall and made his way forward towards the main room. He didn't meet any more guards which meant Bolton was either careless or overconfident. Or perhaps, Robin had already been through here and the men were trussed up in one of the offices.

The hall ended in a steel door with a grate on it which led to the main processing room where the cells had once housed criminals awaiting transfer to a more secure facility. Crane put his face up to the grate and peered through. There was Bolton in his ridiculous Lock-Up outfit looking at a computer terminal. There were six men arranged around the room, all with guns at the ready. In one of the cells, Summer Gleason sat huddled on the bunk. There was no sign of Robin or the other two men that Bolton supposedly had helping him. They could be stationed just inside the front entrance which he couldn't see from his vantage point or they could be upstairs to ward off any roof-top entrances. Such as those by a certain colorful sidekick or his caped mentor.

He considered his options. The men outnumbered him so he needed to get rid of them. For that he needed a diversion but what? He could lob another fear-gas cannister into the room but that would take out Lock-Up as well and Scarecrow was determined to use his secret weapon on Bolton. As he pondered the situation, there came a sudden shout from the stairs to Bolton's left and the sounds of a scuffle. So the other two had been upstairs.

"You three, go help Ramirez and Bennet." Three of the men rushed upstairs at Bolton's direction. He got out a walkie-talkie and yelled into it as the other three men looked tense and swiveled their heads in all directions, anticipating an attack. "Wells! Sutter! I need you in here now!"

There was no reply as this was directed at the two unfortunates that had been guarding the back door. Frustrated, Bolton ordered the three other men to take up positions at each entrance. One came to stand by Scarecrow's door and he was forced to duck down as the man peered briefly towards the grate before standing in front of the door.

Therefore, Scarecrow only heard rather than saw what happened next. There was a lot of shouting and a few bursts of gunfire punctuated by Robin's familiar quips. A particularly loud "bang" signaled the body of the one guard hitting the door and sliding down it. Careful not to be seen, Scarecrow stood back up and looked out again. All the guards were unconscious and Robin was in a fighting stance. Facing him was Lock-Up with a tight arm around Summer's throat and a gun to her head.

"Back off, boy if you don't want her to lose what little brain matter she possesses . My quarrel is with the empty-headed, liberal media not with you or Batman."

"Let her go Bolton. Killing her isn't going to solve anything. I'm sure we can come to a peaceful solution." Robin was obviously stalling for time but did that mean that Batman was on his way? Scarecrow tested the doorknob to ensure the door was unlocked as he prepared to act.

Just then, Lock-Up took the initiative and threw Gleason straight at Robin. The Boy Blunder tried to catch her as she careened into him but instead her flying body landed directly on his. He tried to push her aside but then Lock-Up was on him delivering a vicious kick to the chin. Robin lay there dazed as Bolton stood gloating with his back to the door and then Crane made his move.

Lock-Up turned as Scarecrow lunged at him with the vial in his hand. With a snarl, Crane flung it into Bolton's face. The glass shattered and the big man began coughing as he breathed in the dust-like powder. He doubled over, coughing and shaking his head to clear his throat. Scarecrow saw that Summer Gleason had recovered enough to crawl towards the front door but she was unimportant and he kept all his attention on Lock-Up.

Abruptly, the man staggered back to his feet and Crane stepped back, pretending fright as Bolton came at him. Gloved hands grabbed his costume and swung him against the wall so hard that he saw stars. The scythe tumbled from his hand.

"Crane, you little weasel! What are you doing here!"

"Getting my revenge, you overgrown, bullying, monster. You'll pay for the way you treated me."

"I got news for you. Your little attack didn't work. I'm not afraid of you, you...you..." The evil grin Bolton's face vanished to be replaced by a look of confusion. He released Crane and stumbled back. Scarecrow scooped up the scythe and advanced on Lock-Up.

"Actually, it's working perfectly. The concoction you breathed in is an extremely concentrated version of my fear gas in powder form. It's activated by adrenaline such as you produced when you attacked me. I've never used it on a human being before as it is too dangerous and the subject would likely die and invalidate the experiment but for you I made an exception."

Bolton was now lying on the floor, howling and clawing at his own face as his mind subjected him to unknown terrors. Really, Scarecrow's next action could almost be considered merciful. Raising his scythe over the man's writhing form, Scarecrow smiled.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish." The blade descended ...


	5. Part 5

A Handful of Dust, part 5.

Disclaimer: DC owns everything, not me.

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The blade descended towards Bolton's writhing form only to be knocked from Scarecrow's hands by a black object. He cursed and looked around wildly. Robin was still lying, stunned, at the other end of the room and Batman was nowhere in sight. He turned his head towards Summer Gleason who stood by the front entrance with her other shoe in her hand, ready to throw it.

"Get away from him." There was obvious fear in her voice despite her combative stance and his anger turned to amusement. Slowly, he advanced towards her, talking all the way.

"Why of course, my dear. Thank you for bringing me to my senses. While it would be satisfying to take care of Bolton with my own two hands, it is far better to let my fear drug run it's course. That way, his death will be much slower and more painful. Unlike yours."

Summer had been concentrating on his words to such an extent that she had let him get too close. She realized her mistake and turned to run but Scarecrow was faster. Surging forward, he grasped her by the shoulders and held her against the wall. Despite his thin build, he was quite a bit taller than her and stronger than he looked so her struggles were useless. She stared into the mad blue eyes looking at her as though she were just an insect and couldn't help but tremble.

"Silly girl. You were just a pawn to Bolton. You don't think he really expected that ransom to be paid? No, it was a lure to get Batman involved and disrupt the city so he could take it over. Pity for all of you that it was me and not Batman that found him out." Her gaze went past him briefly and in a sudden instinctive move, he let her go and threw himself backwards. Robin's foot whooshed through the space where he had been. It was too much for Gleason and she bolted out the front door. Scarecrow landed in a crouch and bolted towards the back door. As he reached for the handle, a batarang embedded itself in the wall just inches from his fingers. He cursed and turned to face his attacker.

"Don't move Scarecrow." Robin had another batarang(or should it be called a robinarang?) ready to throw at Crane at the slightest movement. He was keeping an eye on Bolton as well who was now foaming at the mouth. There was still a slight dazed look in the young man's eyes but he was close enough that he wouldn't miss at this angle.

"You know, in the time it would take you to fight me, you could be trying to save that miserable cretin. You won't succeed of course, but I know you hero types have to make an effort at these sort of life-saving gestures. And then there's Miss Gleason. How far do you think she'll get, barefoot in this neighborhood in the dark? Perhaps, she's already being dragged off into an alley by some whiskey-breathed hoodlum. Care to go help her?"

"She's tough. She can take care of herself for a few minutes." He sounded uncertain about that but faced with three different problems, Robin hesitated for a second. Then there was a sudden movement at the front door. They both turned to see the Dark Knight standing in the door with a shivering Summer Gleason at his side. "Batman! You're back!"

Robin couldn't keep the relief out of his voice. Crane took the moment of distraction to flee. He got through the heavy steel door and slammed it shut behind him, locking the bolt before running towards the back door. As he emerged into the alley, the paralyzed guard was gone. Presumably, Batman had taken him somewhere for medical treatment.

Crane ran in the opposite direction from the dumpster where Robin's motorcycle was hidden. There was no one on the street as he emerged and after a cautious look around, he bolted for the same nearby hide-out that he'd gotten the scythe from. Even with Gleason saved, there was still Bolton for them to take care of and hopefully Batman would deal with that problem rather than chasing Scarecrow.

Every little noise made him jump but he reached the decaying building having seen no one other than a bum sleeping on one of the benches. He entered the abandoned building just as the sun was beginning to rise, and paused for breath before heading for the basement where he kept a small cache of supplies. It was just a hiding place with no lab or amenities but he needed somewhere to calm down and hide from Batman and Robin.

Rats and roaches scattered before him as he reached the heavy door. Even through the filters built into his mask, the place stank and for a moment he thought longingly of his neat, little house with it's treasure trove of books just waiting for his perusal. He stepped over the trip wire that would trigger a rush of fear gas at anyone who tried to break in and slipped inside. In a way, the building's condition worked in his favor. No one would think to find the mighty Scarecrow in such surroundings and the only ones who might see him were junkies and winos whose sightings were more likely to be dismissed.

The small, windowless room contained a single locked cabinet which contained a small number of his fear bombs as well as a couple of guns, rations, a radio, and a first aid kit. The only other features were a chair and a toilet and sink. He pulled his mask off and used the basin to wash his face before sinking wearily into the chair. The night's events seemed to hit him all at once. He'd actually gotten his revenge on Bolton as well as evading Batman and Robin! This was his most successful endeavor to date. Now people would know the price of crossing Scarecrow, Master of Fear.

The thought made him laugh. He'd won! Nothing could take this away from him. Even if Batman were to come flying through the door right now to bring him back to Arkham, he'd still have won. Bolton was probably being rushed to the hospital right now but all their efforts would be in vain. He just needed to hide out here for a couple of days and then he would try to make his way somewhere more comfortable.

He ate a couple of granola bars from the cabinet, sipped from a bottle of water, and then turned the radio to the classical station. Crane relaxed into the chair, content to wait however long it would take to feel safe enough to leave, and eventually dozed off. He awoke to the sound of the local news coming from the radio.

"...relieved at the safe return of Gotham news reporter Summer Gleason. Commissioner Gordon reports that vigilantes Batman and Robin were instrumental in rescuing Gleason from kidnapper Lyle Bolton, aka Lock-Up." Bah. They didn't want to give him credit but so be it. He knew the truth and so did the "Dynamic Duo." That was good enough for him. "Gordon also stated that Bolton was taken to Gotham General Hospital for treatment of injuries sustained in the fight. He is reportedly expected to recover and will be returned to Arkham in a few days."

"What! That's impossible!" Crane jumped to his feet and threw the radio against the wall in a rage. It had to be a lie. The usual antidote to his fear gas wouldn't work on the super-concentrated dust. The toxin should have caused Bolton's heart to explode by now. It was a trick.

Dropping back down in the chair, Crane buried his face in his hands in despair. If the report was true, his victory was in ruins. That was intolerable. He had to see if the report was true. Even knowing that it was likely a trick, he had to know. He had to go to Gotham General and see for himself even if that meant facing Batman and Robin.

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I intended for this to be the last chapter but when I actually wrote it out, it started to get way too long. So I split it into two chapters. The sixth and final chapter will be posted when it's done.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Last part and I still own nothing! Also, I'm not a doctor so if I get any medical terminology wrong, I apologize.

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Gotham General was a model of ordered chaos as doctors, nurses, and staff attended to all the usual patients and problems experienced by any hospital in a major city at rush hour. So no one paid much attention to a slump-shouldered janitor as he pushed his mop and bucket down the back corridor of the trauma ward. The man's name tag read "Edgar Kerns," but Batman would have known him for Jonathan Crane in a second so Scarecrow kept his head down.

He'd sent a fear-laced letter to one of the hospital's usual janitors and then presented himself as a temp after the man called out sick, too afraid to leave his house. The head of the sanitation department had given his ID only the most cursory exam before giving him instructions on where he'd been assigned. He'd chosen his victim with care and was assigned to the same floor as the prison wing. Only in Gotham would a hospital need to have a wing devoted to the treatment of prisoners but with the Batman around, criminals tended to sustain a higher number of injuries.

Crane had been here before, as a patient after any number of beatings and concussions, and once before in disguise as a janitor(A/N.) So he was careful to take routes that kept him away from any main corridors and to actually carry out the duties assigned to him to avoid any suspicion. Normally, he loved hospitals. There was always so much fear in the air that even the antiseptic cleaners couldn't mask it from him. But today he had to concentrate on what he was doing and stay away from the main ER areas where fear was the strongest and the most primal emotion on everyone's mind.

He kept his head down and did his best to look ordinary as he came around the corner to the hall that contained Bolton's room. There was a uniformed police officer stationed outside the room but he was busy reading the sports page and barely spared a glance at "Kerns." Scarecrow ducked into an empty room next door and started to wash the floor as he considered how to proceed.

He could take out the guard in an instant and enter Bolton's room but knowing Batman he would have other safety measures in place. Crane didn't even care if he got sent back to Arkham as long as Bolton was really dead. Escape from Arkham was a routine matter and the thought of his fulfilled vengeance would sustain him within the walls of the asylum.

Luckily, he'd come prepared. It had been the work of a minute to find a blueprint of the hospital on-line. The rest of his plan was very simple. There were still doors connecting each room, a throwback to when nurses had to make their rounds in this wing. It had been easier for the nurses to have a way to go between each room without having to walk out into the busy halls. The doors were locked and barred now that this was the prison wing but that wasn't going to stop him. He was going to bypass the guard and deal with Bolton quickly and simply.

Scarecrow moved to the door and crouched down to begin picking the locks. He kept pushing the mop around with his free hand in case anyone walked in. It would just look like he was washing this corner very thoroughly. It took about twenty minutes before the last lock gave. The locks were so rusty from disuse that his hand was covered in reddish residue that he wiped off onto his overalls. He'd made sure he entered the room shortly before the guard he'd seen had gone off duty and been replaced with another. That way the man wouldn't wonder why he was staying so long in this room and his replacement wouldn't know Crane was here.

As the door came free, Crane peered into the next room and saw no one. Deliberately, he spilled the water from the bucket all over the floor in this room. It would make the floor slippery in case anyone tried to come through here. Then he abandoned the mop and wheeled bucket and strolled into the room. There was no Batman waiting for him or anyone else for that matter. The room contained a bed with a man lying in it hooked up to various machines.

It was Lyle Bolton and according to the monitor, he was still very much alive. Crane locked the door and picked up the medical chart at the end of the bed. Skimming it, he registered phrases like "arrhythmia," and "neurological damage," but it was the phrase at the bottom that made his rage increase. "Patient is expected to recover the majority of neurological function with therapy."

It didn't make sense. He had calculated the dose of the dust needed to kill a man of Bolton's size and then doubled the amount. It should have been foolproof. The effects should have been much more than a little brain damage and a mild heart attack. He was completely baffled.

But after a moment he shrugged it off. He would just have to finish the job himself. He had to pass through the hospital's metal detector to enter the building so he hadn't been able to bring in a gun or a knife. Luckily, he didn't need such crude weapons to finish the bully. A quick search provided him with a syringe in a drawer. He donned gloves and withdrew a small glass vial from an inner pocket. Puncturing the top of the vial, he quickly filled the syringe to capacity.

He approached the helpless man and prepared to inject the massive dose of fear toxin into the IV line but something made him hesitate. It couldn't be this easy, could it? Surely, any minute now, Batman was going to come crashing into the room, truss up Scarecrow, and ship him back to Arkham. The Dark Knight would never be so careless as to leave Bolton unguarded.

The thought came to mind that maybe this wasn't Bolton but Batman in disguise and as soon as he got close enough, the man's eyes would open and a strong hand would close upon his wrist. Sweating nervously at the thought, Crane peered closely at the man in the bed but it was definitely Bolton complete with the self-inflicted injuries from earlier. Besides, Batman would never lie there all day waiting for Scarecrow to strike. He was a bat of action.

What was wrong with him? It was as though he were afraid of success. He looked down at the syringe. He hadn't been exposed to the fear toxin inside. It was only habit that was making him so nervous. Shaking off the feeling of impending doom, he stepped forward and clutched the IV line. As the syringe came up, a Batarang smashed into his wrist and he dropped it with a curse and bolted for the main door.

He saw Batman enter the room through the unlocked side door and then the vigilante almost lost his balance as his boots skidded in the soapy water on the floor. Fueled by adrenaline, Scarecrow was already at the main door, unlocking it, and then bolting through it. The guard looked up in surprise as Crane flew past him but he was unprepared for Scarecrow's exit.

Crane pushed open the heavy fire door and took steps towards the stairs when heavy bolas whipped around his ankles, knocking him forward. His arms pinwheeled as he tried to stop himself from falling forward down the stairs. A gloved hand closed over one wrist and threw him backwards. His left shoulder collided with the door, closing it behind him and making pain radiate down his arm.

He lay there for a moment, stunned from the fall and the shock of his injured arm and then he was hoisted off the floor and dangled limply in Batman's grasp. The Dark Knight regarded him grimly.

"It's over Crane."

"It's not fair! That bully deserves to suffer for what he did to me." His heart was beginning to pound in his chest and his breath was coming in short gasps. The symptoms of a panic attack were well-known to him but why would he be having one now? The realization dawned on him as he looked down at the red stains on his hand. "What have you done to me?"

"I knew you'd likely try to get at Bolton through that door so I treated the locks with a mild version of your fear dust. You absorbed it through your skin as you were picking them. The antidote is right here." Crane stared at the vial that Batman removed from his utility belt. His own concoction used against him to throw him off balance? The surge of anger grew inside him but there wasn't much he could do with his legs still tied and his left arm useless.

"There is NO antidote to the fear dust. How did you create one quick enough to save that wretch's life?"

"You left behind a sample of the dust in one of your lairs. I found it six months ago and formulated an antidote even though your notes said you'd never use it on a human subject." The condemnation was obvious in the tone of Batman's voice.

Crane's heart constricted in misery. He HAD created more than one sample of the dust and now he recalled that there had been a sample in a lair that Batman had found while pursuing him. He'd given it no thought since, as his notes had claimed, he'd never meant to use it but Batman had second-guessed him. Still, he had no remorse for his actions.

"Bolton doesn't qualify as human. He's a monster." Crane sneered even as Batman injected him with the antidote.

"That makes two of you." There was no more talk as Batman secured Crane's good arm to his side with rope and fashioned a crude sling for the other. Scarecrow simply sat there as he was tended, feeling the antidote begin to take effect. His heart slowed, his breathing evened out and the sweat dried on his skin. With the calmness came clarity.

He may not have killed Bolton but he'd hurt the man and done at least some lasting damage. Perhaps that was better in the long run. Maybe Bolton would have learned his lesson. He might very well spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder, wondering if Scarecrow was going to show up and finish the job he'd begun at the old prison. Every time the bully heard a strange noise or glimpsed movement out of the corner of his eye, he'd remember the fear he'd felt at the hands of the Scarecrow. He'd learned the meaning of true fear and he'd never be able to lose that knowledge.

Scarecrow savored that idea all the way back to Arkham. He was taken to the infirmary there where an x-ray showed that his arm was fractured. Batman hadn't wanted to leave him at Gotham General as it would put him near the recovering Bolton. Even with an injured arm and a mild sedative administered, Batman still thought that Scarecrow might go after Lock-Up again. Batman, the police who had shown up, and the doctors were all secretly afraid of him. The thought made him smile.

Several days after his return, he was brought to the rec room with a warning not to cause trouble that might further injure his arm. As he walked in, he was surprised to see the majority of his fellow Rogues were there and looking in his direction. He hesitated, unsure of the reason for their regard since they usually ignored him. Then Harley ran forward and threw her arms around his neck in a quick hug.

"Way to go, Professor! You sure showed that jerk."

"Yeah, good goin' Jonny." That was from Scarface who was cradled in the arms of the Ventriloquist. The timid man smiled at Crane. The rest came forward to congratulate him. All of them had hated Bolton and by getting even with him, Crane had vicariously taken revenge for all of them. He was a little stunned by all the accolades and slaps to the back but he still grinned at the realization that he deserved the praise. After all, he was the Master of Fear.

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Well, that's the end. I considered an ending where he got away but I liked this one better. Thanks for all the great feedback.

A/N: This isn't a reference to the animated series but I used it anyway. It's a reference to the "New Year's Evil: Scarecrow," comic where Crane disguises himself as a hospital janitor to get closer to his intended victim. He wasn't caught then so I figured he could use the same scheme again.


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